The Blood That Lies Within Us
by Jenmm31
Summary: When Dean goes missing and winds up unconscious in the hospital after what seemed like an easy hunt, his seventeen year old daughter Abby begins to search deeper into her father's past. Will the truth come out and prove that there's no hiding from the past? There may be no denying that hunting runs in the Winchester blood after all. Co-written by the amazing wandertogondor.


**Hello! This is a two-part story that the wonderful wandertogondor and I wrote together. She is an amazingly talented author and you guys should be sure to check out her stories! **

**Hope you enjoy this story because we had a fun time coming up with the concept. **

**Read, Review, and most importantly, ENJOY! Second part will be up soon :) Let us know what you think!  
**

* * *

Fridays were always Abby's favorite day. Well, pretty much everyone reveled in the excitement that two days of no work, school, or responsibility brought. "T.G.I.F.," she announced joyfully, tossing herself down onto a wooden chair at the kitchen table. Her straight, light brown hair was still damp as it sat effortlessly on her shoulders, small wisps framing her face. With the extra energy that a Friday morning brought, she eagerly dug into her cereal bowl sitting in front of her.

Standing at the counter, Dean finished pouring himself a fresh cup of hot coffee - his "morning delight" as he liked to call it. He had relied on it for so many years in order to stay awake during his long days that the habit had become impossible to kick, but it wasn't like he had ever actually tried.

"What do you have planned for this weekend that has you in such a great mood?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant as he leaned up against the kitchen counter, stirring his coffee. He was obviously curious about what was going on in her life, but he knew better than to pry too much. Live and learn was how it worked with a seventeen year old daughter.

"Nothing," she quipped, smiling through a mouthful of food. "That's the best part! Sleep till noon and chow down on Chinese takeout. Not to mention there's an all night _Harry Potter _marathon on tonight."

"Haven't you watched all of them ten times already?"

Abby shrugged with a wide grin. "You know what they say, Dad, eleventh time's always the charm."

Relieved that her plans sounded harmless and scarce, Dean wasn't so worried about _his_ change in weekend plans. "Sounds riveting," he joked, flashing a quick grin.

"I know, right? And you?" she asked before taking a sip of her orange juice.

Dean ran a nervous hand down his face. He wasn't even too confident in his own plans, but he had to do it. "Well, actually my old friend Dave called me up last night and wants me to come down to Greenville and help fix up his car. Got pretty banged up in a wreck," he lied.

"Why can't another mechanic do it?" Abby asked, not accusingly, just curious as to why he was now making out of town house calls.

"Well, he wants the best of the best," Dean boasted, standing a little taller. Abby rolled her eyes and let out a small chuckle, causing his shoulder to slouch back down as his momentary confidence bubble deflated. "Fine. His insurance won't cover it, so he asked me for a favor. I owe him anyway," he explained.

And it was mostly the truth. He did owe this guy a favor or two from all the times he had helped him and Sam out back in the day. This lying stuff was like riding a bike for Dean. Even though he hadn't lied through his teeth this much recently, it all came back so naturally to him.

"I don't believe you," Abby stated flatly, staring directly at him. His eyebrows rose, asking a silent 'why' as his mind raced, trying to figure out exactly which part was 'unbelieveable.' A sly grin crept across her face at seeing her father struggle. "Because you don't actually have any friends," she joked.

Playing along with her ridicule at his expense, Dean replied, offended, "I do too have friends."

Without missing a beat, she shot back, "Uncle Sam doesn't count."

"Ha-ha. Your morning comedy show is hilarious," he mocked back. Sitting down at the table across from her, he took another long, savory sip of his coffee, content that his plan had worked and she wasn't going to dig for anymore specific details that he would have to lie about.

"So how long you gonna be gone for?" she asked eagerly, more excited for what she would get out of the weekend.

"Probably be back tomorrow night or Sunday morning at the latest," he replied. At hearing that, Abby's eyes grew a little wider and were illuminated with excitement. Being home alone was something that rarely happened to her, so there was no way she _wouldn't_ be thrilled with this news. Noticing her sudden change in demeanor, he quickly added, "Settle down. Don't think I won't be checking in fifteen times a day to make sure you're not having a party. Sam might even stop by for a surprise visit, you never know."

Narrowing her eyes at him, she replied, "Yeah, well if you wake me up or send Uncle Sam over before noon, don't think I won't burn your AC/DC shrine collection."

Meeting her gaze, he retorted, "You wouldn't even get close enough. Remember, I have cameras everywhere."

This time she couldn't help but laugh. "Cameras everywhere? You don't even know how to work the one on your prehistoric cellphone."

He faltered a moment before responding, "Yeah, well...I know people who do!"

"Sure," Abby smacked the word through her teeth, turning her focus back to staring down at her cereal, eagerly sinking her spoon into the milk and watching as little air bubbles formed on the surface.

Abby glanced over at the clock hanging on the wall above the oven, suddenly realizing she was going to be late to school. "Shit," she muttered, earning her a stern glare from her father. Ignoring him, she quickly tossed her dish into the sink and went to grab her backpack that was lying on the floor beside the door.

"Hey, what about me?" Dean yelled over to her, throwing his arms up in the air incredulously.

Abby was already halfway out the door and just made a random gesture somewhat resembling a wave goodbye and throwing a quick "have a good trip" over her shoulder before grabbing her backpack and disappearing out the door. She skipped down the steps and over to her car. A smile crept across her face, forgetting all about the stupid science test she was on the verge of being late for. She was just excited for the wonderful, relaxing weekend that she had ahead of her now.

* * *

Things went smoothly when Abby came home from school that afternoon and basked in the emptiness of the house. She curled up on the couch with a big bowl of popcorn for the all-night Harry Potter marathon, which had already been interrupted three times by her dad's incessant phone calls, making sure she was 'being good.' It wasn't that he didn't trust her, he just didn't trust anything else outside those four walls.

On Saturday morning, she woke up and was shocked to see that it was already noon. She had expected to be hounded by early morning phone calls but was pleasantly surprised to see her dad had listened to her one request and had texted her earlier that morning. "_B bck tnght. Cll u ltr_." She couldn't help but laugh and roll her eyes at his stingy lack of letters. She had tried to explain to him on multiple occasions that texting isn't charged _per letter_, so there was no need to exclude vowels. But surely to just keep bothering her, he continued to do it anyway.

Abby used the time in the early afternoon sun meandering in and out of the house. She did all the quiet things she loved to do, like sitting on the porch with a glass of cold lemonade, watching how the shadow of the sun lengthened as her tiny little earth rotated on its axle. There was a worn, dog-eared book pressed open on her lap, poised in her hands ready to be delved into but eventually closed unread and abandoned entirely as the sky grew darker.

She made sure to double-check all the locks in the house before climbing up the stairs toward her bedroom, checking her phone for any missed calls from her dad expectantly. It was a force of habit, checking her phone so often. She couldn't help it. But that night she didn't worry. He had said he'd be back tonight, so he was probably just driving and going to get in late.

The next morning, Abby nearly bound out of bed and rummaged in and out of every room in search of her father. When there was no sight of him, she shrugged off the initial worry and powered through the morning. But, as she perched herself on the porch to watch her tiny earth moving, phone grasped ready in her hand, that worry she had once shrugged off now nagged, curled, and hooked nasty holes in the pit of her gut. She played with her phone, moving it from one hand to the other, trying to decide if she should call again. Ten missed calls should have been obvious enough to him that she was worried, but was twenty overdoing it?

And once the little crickets started to chirp and the lightening bugs began twinkling against the darkening night sky, Abby couldn't stomach her father's absence or his negligence to answer her calls. A part of her said to be happy for the extra time she had to spend with herself, but the more influential part of her said to call for help. And Abby did. She called her father's phone several times again, leaving a voice message each time, to no avail. Giving up all hope, Abby punched in the number of the one person who would surely pick up.

"Hello? Abby?"

She fought to keep her words steady. "Uncle Sam?"

All it took was hearing the tone in her voice as she said those two words to know something was going on. "What's wrong?" His response was filled with panic, and Abby could just see him stop everything he was doing at that moment. "Abby?!"

"Dad's on a trip outta town and he hasn't called back." The confession had a sour aftertaste in Abby's mouth and she desperately paced back and forth across the porch in anticipation.

"I'm sure he's just running late," Sam replied as calmly as he could though curiosity and worry still tightened in his chest. "I'm sure he's fine, Abby."

"No! If he's running late he would have called, Uncle Sam! He would have called. He would have called." The words spilled out from her mouth because Abby was trying to think of any other excuse to justify why her dad hadn't called back. On the other line, she could hear the sound of Sam's car door slam shut and the engine rumble to life.

"Are you at home?" Sam asked into the silence. "Abby!?"

Her response was omitted in shock as her body shook. "I'm still here."

"Are you at your house?"

"Yeah."

"Stay there. I'm coming. I want you to go inside and lock all the doors and all the windows. Don't open the door for _anyone_ except me. Understand?" Silence. "Abby, do you understand?"

"Okay."

Sam sped past stop signs and ran red lights, driving as fast as he could without killing himself in the process, still clutching the phone up to his ear. "Abby. I'm going to put the phone down and I'm going to see if I can reach your dad, okay? Are you inside the house? Are the doors all locked?"

"Yeah." She paused, taking a deep breath before adding, "Uncle Sam, I'm scared."

Sam felt his heart steadily increase at hearing her confession. "Everything's going to be okay," he nodded to himself more for his own reassurance. He knew he had to get a hold of Dean, but he needed more information before he could try to locate him, and his scared niece was the only source. He was beginning to panic on the inside as well, but he wouldn't let it show in his voice. He had to be stronger than that. "Do you know where he went?"

Trying to rack her brain for the details he'd shared over breakfast just the other morning, she replied, "Uh, he went to help an old friend fix up his car. Dale? Dan? Dave? I don't remember his name," her voice started to quiver. How could she not recall such an important detail? "I think he went to Greenville," she added with a sigh of exhaustion, thankful she could at least recall that sliver of pertinent information.

Immediately sensing the increasing desperation in her voice, Sam reassured, "I know he's fine. Probably forgot his phone charger or something. I'll make some calls and be right over, okay?"

_His phone would've gone straight to voicemail without ringing if it were out of battery_, she wanted to tell him, defying Sam's initial logic. But she knew that wouldn't help anyone, so she just muttered in agreement, not sounding fully convinced.

"And Abby?" He paused, waiting for her to acknowledge she was listening. "Just wait there. I'll be there before you know it. There's nothing to worry about, okay?"

After exchanging goodbyes, Abby stared at her phone, wanting to call her dad again, but scared it would go unanswered for the umpteenth time. Each voicemail she had left him documented the increasing panic in her voice and she couldn't bring herself to leave another one. Every possible idea ran through her mind...he had had a heart attack from pie overindulgence, a horrible car accident, he was mugged, kidnapped, or held up at gunpoint at a bank in the middle of nowhere, or the stupid car had fallen on top of him while he was working on it. Or worse yet...he was just lying somewhere de - no. She wouldn't even let that word into her head because the second she said it, that would be the only thing that echoed through her mind.

The worst part was just sitting there, waiting for Sam to come over, hopefully with some answers. Was this how her dad felt whenever she came back a few minutes after she'd said she'd return? Was each minute more tortuous than the previous? Well, she sure as hell was going to ground _him_ when he got back for putting her through this hell. Her dad was all she had left and there would just be no moving on for her if he didn't come through the front door again.

Slowly, she put her feet up on the couch, pulling her knees in closely. Then out of nowhere, the tears began to stream down her face. Her whole body shook as fear and anxiety took over every ounce of her being. She cried until her body physically couldn't take it any more. And then she just laid there, aimlessly staring across the room toward the entryway, waiting for Sam to walk through that door.

The exhaustion must have taken over because the next thing she knew, she heard a key jiggling in the lock. Abby jumped up, taking off across the room and all but crashing into the door. She opened it along with the person on the other side and she was slightly disappointed to see it was Sam and not her dad.

Quickly recovering, she wrapped her arms around her uncle, thankful that she wasn't alone anymore. Sam squeezed her back and moved them to the side to close the door behind him.

After a few moments, she pulled back from him, searching his face and silently demanding answers. "I think we should sit down," he said, remorse clear in his tone.

Abby folded her arms across her chest. "No. Just tell me here," she begged. Because people only ever sat down to tell bad news. Good news didn't require people to sit and she'd be damned if she was about to hear anything awful.

"Abby…," he attempted again, placing his hand on her back, trying to guide her toward the living room, but he was met with a brisk shake of her head, showing she wasn't moving. Tears began to fill her eyes from the anticipation. "I found him," he began. A small smile spread across her face in relief but he didn't mirror her reaction. Sam shifted his weight to the other foot and placed both hands on her shoulders, as if he was preparing himself to catch her from falling after hearing what was about to come. "He's in the hospital."

She blinked a few times, trying to process that statement. "But he's okay, right?" she asked in a quiet voice. Good news, it had to be good news because they weren't sitting down.

Sam took a deep breath before answering, "There's been an accident….," he paused, debating whether or not he should share all of the information at once. He had spent most of the drive over here trying to decide what he should say and what he shouldn't. But the pain behind his niece's green eyes wouldn't let him keep it all from her. "Abby, he's still unconscious."

Abby felt her legs give out beneath her and Sam helped her down to sit on the ground. Maybe he had been right, this was 'sitting' news after all.

* * *

When Abby was finally able to regain control of her body and breathing, she opened her eyes and realized she wasn't lying on the floor in a heap but instead Sam had brought her to the couch, where they were both sitting, his arms protectively wrapped around her.

She sniffled a few times, trying to regain her composure before pulling back from his secure hold. Their eyes met for a few seconds, each attempting to read what the other was thinking. Finally, she announced, "I want to see him."

Sam took a deep breath, his shoulders falling lower before answering in an apologetic tone, "Abby..."

She pushed herself further back on the couch out of his grasp, showing her displeasure at his response. "No, Uncle Sam. I _need_ to see him."

"I promise we will go first thing in the morning." He wanted to see Dean just as bad as she did, but he just didn't think she was in the right state of mind to make the three hour drive to the hospital with him.

"Don't you get it?!" Her green eyes brimmed with tears that threatened to spill over again.

"I mean who knows how long he's been lying there in the hospital _alone_. He needs us to be there." Silence. "If you don't take me, I'm just going to drive myself."

Realizing he was either going to have to strap her to a chair so she wouldn't run off in the middle of the night or just take her to the hospital now, he opted for the latter, recognizing this battle was already lost. "Okay, but…."

Without another word, she took off upstairs to pack a few things in her backpack, not knowing how long they were going to be away. As she walked down the hall toward the stairs, she stopped suddenly in front of her dad's room. Hesitating for a moment, Abby almost felt guilty for entering when he wasn't there, like she was somehow invading his privacy. She went over to his dark brown dresser and grabbed one of his favorite shirts and sweatpants. He was sure to want them when he woke up and had to make the trip back home. Because that's what he was going to do...wake up. There wasn't any other alternative.

* * *

"Abby?" Sam was standing right beside her, but his voice seemed so far away, like it was echoing from from wall to wall in the halls of this lonely hospital that was crowded with medical equipment. "I'm going to go get us some food from the cafeteria. I'll be back soon. Okay?"

Abby's eyes never left her father's still face. She had been rooted to his side for days, just waiting to have her breath hitch in her throat when his green eyes finally opened. Her uncle was about to repeat himself, but something inside of him said that she had heard him even if she hadn't moved in response. Placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder, Sam eventually drifted out the room, leaving Abby and Dean alone in the silence which was only penetrated by the occasional beeps from the various monitors by his bedside.

Thoughts swam around in her head, and she was drowning in it all. It felt like her heart was going to just beat out of her chest, and Abby was half convinced that she would have to hail down a doctor to treat her any minute now. She blew out a deep breath and rested her head on the mattress beside her father's hand, matching up the rise and fall of his chest with her own, finding it somehow comforting.

"Dad," she said, her words obscured into the bedding that smelt of starch and cheap soap. "I need you to wake up. Okay? I need you to wake up. There are still so many things you need to teach me...things you still need to tell me."

She slowly raised her head, hoping that when she looked up her father would miraculously be looking back at her with a tired smile. But his face was still blank and still. Abby's shoulders slumped in defeat and she buried her face in the palms of her hands, cursing loudly and angrily. She tried to breath steadily, expelling all the frustration with each exhale as she continued to stare at the blackness behind her eyelids.

"Abby?" Dean mumbled, his voice rough.

Her head snapped up to look up into her father's green eyes so quickly she nearly got whiplash. "Dad!" She leaned closer to the bed, grabbing his hand again. She didn't take her eyes off of him as he moved his head around, trying to take in his new surroundings from what little he could see lying down.

"I'm in a hospital," he stated. He blinked hard a few times, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the environment before he focused his slightly blurred vision back on Abby. It wasn't hard to miss the brightness that shone behind her eyes. Clearly he had been out long enough for her to get worked up in a horrid panic. In a big wave, it all came back to him...why he was in the hospital to begin with. He tried to push himself up in a sitting position, hissing sharply in pain as his aching and weak body didn't have enough energy to do it. Without hesitating, Abby reached for the bed remote and started to lift the back of it so he could sit properly.

After he was sitting up, there was a beat of silence. Dean coughed, trying to figure out what to say, not knowing what had happened while he was unconscious. "Uh, how long was I out for?"

Abby sat the remote down and gave him a stern glare. "Two days too many."

He slightly nodded his head, digesting that information. The last thing he remembered, he was with Dave and the….oh gosh. Dean watched as his daughter stared expectantly at him, waiting for him to speak. His tongue fumbled for some lie and he started to mutter something inaudible before she interrupted him.

"It's okay." Abby cut in quickly. "I know the truth, Dad."

Dean's eyes grew as wide as saucers when she said those words and he nearly jumped up then and there, coming to his senses rapidly. His response, though, was slow and pointed, nervousness and disbelief clearly evident. "What are you talking about?"

"I know how you got in the hospital." She paused. "Uncle Sam told me everything." But before her father could say any more, Abby continued. "I'm just glad you weren't in the Impala when the accident happened because I don't think you'd recover from the heartache."

"Yeah," Dean agreed flatly, deep in thought. He felt his muscles relax in relief, though there was a slight glimmer of what looked like guilt in Abby's eyes, sparking an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach as he sensed there was a piece of the puzzle missing. With a reassuring, yet tired smile, he squeezed his daughter's hand with as much strength as he could muster and asked, "Where's your Uncle Sam?"


End file.
